heavyhitter | IC CONTACT (futuro & prisma)

[Well, that's fair enough, knock yourself out.

That amount of getting friendly gets a little more of a reaction, a cant of the head back down at her and a momentary pause where he weighs the pros and cons of just tugging her over into his lap and speeding this creeping over along. (Sorry, Sigma.) Hell, the clinging is doing a hell of a lot more good than the food at this point. He settles for shifting to set her haul by his feet so he can hook an arm over the chair behind her instead and commit to the general slump.

Her voice is tight with real anger—which is not common, and not lost on him. And not at all unreasonable, given the circumstances. (And now that he's thinking a little more clearly, he can't help but do the unkind math on the worst case scenario for someone like Ramir. Superpowered, bulletproof, and sick. It's not like she's got a kryptonite as far as he can tell.)

It leaves a sharp and sour taste in his mouth, a sharp spike of dread in his blood. If nothing else, it's motivating.]

You could take it up with HR, but I don't think they're gonna hear it.

[This whole mess hasn't done wonders for his opinion on ALASTAIR's approach to chucking field agents into the wild willy nilly. And it wasn't very high to begin with.]

Working theory right now seems to be that it's more of an extraterrestrial problem than a local one. Wish I could tell you I had it all worked out already, but I guess I'm a little out of practice.

[Or, y'know, a little distracted. But directing that anger toward something sure would be nice right about now.]

[ God, she doesn't care what the cause is. She doesn't care what the cause is and she doesn't even care if this whole world gets infected and tears itself apart — she just wants Audentes making it out whole and in one piece. The selfish thought has a frown on her face, which eases only slightly when she drops her head to rest against Jason's chest. ]

It's called PR in ALASTAIR. [ HR, that is. As nice as bitching is, it doesn't fix much. And she definitely can't help in the speculation department, she's leaving that up to brighter minds. ] For personnel resources. Don't be so fucking speciesist, Jason.

[ See, she can still do jokes. Kind of. ]

[He throws her game attempt at humor a tepid bone that's more scoff than laugh. She'll feel it through his chest more than she can hear it.]

Duly noted.

[He's at least mostly aware that this is a venting visit and not a conspiratorial one, so he lets the change of subject stand. But he can't not think about it. As far as coping mechanisms go, Jason's always been prone to leaning on aggressive productivity. Having run into nothing but dead ends at the moment, then getting confirmation on Ramir's own status, he's wound up tight and turning things over compulsively in his head. Looking for the things he's missed that could lead them to a crack in the case. Even if the horrible hunger has dulled on the edges, it makes it a lot easier to feel the things it had been overshadowing. Exhaustion, frustration. Anger that has nothing to do with the virus and everything to do with how out of his control this is getting.]

D'you think they'll hold zombie sensitivity seminars? Cannibal cookout nights? Or hey, if we're all just gonna go native, I guess that's a few less bodies for Lloyd to worry about shipping home. Maybe they'll just cut their losses.

Yeah, they would. Cut their losses, I mean. [ And she can't even be mad about it. She would. ] If we fuck this up and everyone gets infected, why would they bother pulling us out when we'd be a risk back in Oska? Maybe they'd come back and see if we're still alive in a couple years, if they got a cure by then. Maybe.

[ That could be an overly pessimistic view... but she's not inclined to count on any kind of favorable outcome from anyone not directly in her group, the way she's decided Audentes is. Her hands clench once, then forcibly release and settle down again. ]

But we got some talented nerds around here that aren't gonna let it get that far.

[Since this has tipped back into serious discussion territory, he cuts the contrary crap and watches her fists clench and unclench. (If she decided right here that she wanted to take a bite out of him, she's be inches away from snapping his neck with one of those. Caving his chest in without breaking a sweat. He hadn't thought of her that way, much, save for once, when she'd pinged back from the future and looked at him like he was a wild dog. Even then, that was limited in scope, narrow in focus. When do you start coming up with contingencies?)

Maybe the worst part of this is the increasingly likely possibility that he's going to need to rely on the aforementioned "talented nerds" to fix it if he runs the clock out on his own sanity too soon. Audentes are her people, maybe, even if ALASTAIR isn't. She has faith in the crew at large that he doesn't.]

And if it does anyway?

[Get that far.]

If it does... Audentes is pretty strong. Some of us, anyway.

[ Her voice drops a little, flattening out its usual expressive ups and downs, as she stares absently out the window to Jason's left. ]

I asked Koltira to take care of me if it comes down to it — he could do it pretty easy, and I bet he could take down anyone else that's too strong, too.

[ And not to have Sigma do it, that's the important part. Or Jason, now that she thinks about it — although, honestly, who could tell who would go first between the two of them? Timelines are a little tough to figure. ]

[They could just go out together, do the whole blaze of glory thing. Nice and dramatic. All things considered, Kolitra's probably a safer bet.]

Making arrangements, how responsible.

[Dry, like he hadn't been weighing options on the matter, himself. He's so proud of you, bud. She knows her capabilities best, so he doesn't argue it. He realizes a little belatedly that he's been restlessly rapping his knuckles against the back of her chair, and he makes an effort to stop it before posing the next obvious question.]

Does Sigma know?

[ She hadn't even noticed it consciously, but the rapping against her chair had been gently fraying at already frayed nerves somewhere in the back of her mind. She only notices it at all when he finally stops, and a little more ease filters in again. She takes in a slow breath to let that seep in a little. ]

Yeah. [ Please, like she wouldn't tell him immediately after finally coming to grips with it herself. She closes her eyes, brow furrowing a little. ] He's infected too, but — symptomless. It's like he's immune, or something.

[ lucky jerk ]

[Does he look like a guy who knows what healthy communication between couples is like. (Spoilers, he sure doesn't.) Some dudes might not react all that well to learning their superpowered girlfriend is taking out contingencies in case she needs to be put down like a rabid dog, probably. Good thing Sigma's a trooper, ig.

He exhales sharply, dropping his hand away from the back of her chair, sitting up where he'd been leaning into her.]

Lucky Sigma. [Somehow, it manages to come out breezy and biting and at the same time. Some unkind reflex of petty resentment that's been long swallowed but not deep enough to be strangled out, mixing terribly with the acid burn of aggression being fostered and facilitated by the virus.] Front row seats without having to worry about being in the splash zone. Wonder what the betting odds are on that.

[ The lean away from her would be fine, but not paired with the comment. That has her own short temper flaring up a little, and a frown crosses her face like a dark cloud. ]

Yeah, lucky. [ Which, true, she'd just been thinking herself -- but it's different when someone goes and says it. She pulls back a little as well, the better to direct her frown at Jason. ] Lucky that he might get to watch me -- and a bunch other people on this team -- lose our minds and get put down without being able to do anything about it. That sounds super lucky.

IC CONTACT (futuro & prisma)

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